CHAPTER SEVEN
“Let’s play a game.”
I am still waking up. Whipping me always gives her a voracious appetite for s*x. How long she kept me strung up, I couldn’t say. I entered that timeless state so familiar to submissives, when the most appalling torture is transformed into pure, exquisite sensation and nothing else matters. I know that my hair was dry before she finished, and my struggling had warmed my blood until I glowed with sweat.
She had been desperate with need when she cut me down, unlinked my ankles, and hauled me to the blanket with my wrists still bound. She didn’t require my hands anyway. She lay me on my back and sat on my face. I can’t remember now which sensation I enjoyed more, feasting on her luscious furrow, or lying on my freshly whipped back. I slaked my thirst from
